The bond of lovers
by Dr.Horus
Summary: Things have been hard for Malik ever since he lost Kadar, and it's finally time for Altair to face him about his condition.


**Yeah, so I'm suppose to be working on other projects but I couldn't help this Alt/Mal that I swear jumped me outta nowhere. Yeah, I don't know what's with the title either :P**

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Malik's brown eyes slowly slid open as sleep escaped his grasp. The first thing he was aware of was the warm body beside him, one arm draped around Malik, a hand curling in on itself by his throat. The feeling instantly comforted him and he let a small smile touch his lips. Malik craned his neck slightly to stare at Altair's sleeping face. The rafiq thought how peaceful the assassin looked in this state of slumber. It was hard to think that this adorable, drooling, quietly snoring man could be a cold blooded killer. His brown hair was tousled and messy and magnificently sexy. Malik watched Altair's muscular chest rise and fall with every serene breath. The motion was so soothing, Malik felt himself fall into a tranquil state as he stared.

Judging by the lighting of the room, and Malik's internal clock, it was very early in the morning and no one, especially Altair, would be awake for a while. The city was still blanketed in the trance caused by night. Families slept peacefully in their homes, few guards dotted the rooftops and streets, even most animals were curled up in various havens to have a few hours of sleep before waking to hunt and continue the struggle to survive in the dangerous streets. It seemed no one else, besides the silent guard patrols, was awake in the entire city besides the Dai.

Time passed and nothing changed except the subtle glow of dawn barely illuminating the room through the shaded window. Malik sighed, wishing Altair was awake. For a moment he thought about waking the assassin, but then decided against it. Altair needed what rest he got, and certainly deserved it. So why didn't Malik get to sleep? Ever since the death of Kadar, he had a terrible time trying to sleep, and when he did it was short and plagued by nightmares. The bad dreams lessened and almost entirely disappeared when Malik and Altair got together, but his slumber was still restless and spotty at best. He wondered if he'd ever get a good night's rest again.

To occupy himself, Malik reached over with his one remaining hand to the pile of equipment Altair had left by their bed. At the time of him removing the weapons, Malik had complained about the clutter and demanded it be moved, but now he was glad the eagle had ignored him. At least it gave him something to do.

Malik wrapped his nimble fingers around the handle of a throwing knife and silently pulled it from its sheathe. He held the blade up to his face, scrutinizing the fine edge and sharp point. It took good aim and precision to accurately throw one such a knife and Malik had proudly been one of the few to be truly skilled in the art. He hadn't thrown one in ages though, not since he had been confined to the Bureau in Jerusalem. He wondered if he would still be as good at it as he had once been.

To test the blade, Malik used the knife to shear a few hairs from his chest. He shivered as the steel cut flawlessly, easily slicing through the thin opposition. He knew that it could just as easily separate flesh. At that thought, Malik wondered how easily it would cut him. The rafiq was tempted to test the knife on something more than hair. He lowered the blade to rest on his chest, taking in a sharp breath at the cold of the metal. Malik put the slightest amount of pressure and felt the sharp knife carve open an incision in his skin no thicker than a hair.

Suddenly a hand whipped around and firmly grasped Malik's wrist, stilling the blade. Malik gasped slightly and twisted his head around to see Altair, awake and his golden eyes open to show it.

"What are you doing?" Altair hissed.

"Nothing." Malik replied.

Altair didn't seem impressed by his answer. He twisted the knife out of Malik's grip and tossed it to the side. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath and fully waking up. Malik straightened himself and stared at the small wound across his skin. Small beads of blood swelled at the open mouth of the laceration and threatened to spill over.

"Why did you do that?" Altair demanded, bringing Malik's attention back to him. He found the assassin glaring at him. Malik instinctually frowned in return.

"I do whatever the hell I want." he snapped.

"But _why?_" Altair insisted.

"I don't know." Malik grumbled lowly.

The Dai swung his legs over the side of the bed and swiftly stood. He strode across the room and retrieved a cloth, wiping up the spot of blood that had leaked from his contusion. Once that was done he set to work getting dressed. It was still early, but the sounds from outside told him the city was stirring, and therefore so should he.

Altair remained on the bed, his bare torso revealed and the blanket only covering his legs. He watched Malik go about the motions, a slight scowl on his brow. Malik completely ignored him, learning long ago to not give the eagle too much attention.

After dressing he went out into the main room of the bureau and set to work. Today he had some research to do about an upcoming assignment for an assassin that would be arriving tomorrow, there was a map that needed to be finished, and a, for some reason grumpy, novice that he had to eradicate from his bed.

Luckily for Malik, Altair surfaced soon after him, fully clothed in the assassin uniform, minus the hood that was thrown back to reveal his still disheveled hair. He slowly walked out of the bedroom and came around to the side of the counter, keeping his sharp gaze on Malik. The rafiq silently suffered this stare for several minutes, doing his best to push the onlooker to the back of his mind as he worked.

"Malik."

Malik sighed and turned to finally face Altair.

"Yes? I have important work to attend to so it would be appreciated if novices like you wouldn't bother me." Malik told the master assassin.

Altair remained unperturbed by Malik's attitude, by now use to the usually grouchy rafiq.

"We need to talk." his voice was steady and firm as he addressed Malik.

Malik was slightly surprised by his tone. Shit, this was serious. The Dai gently set aside the papers he had been poring over and gave Altair his full attention.

"What is it?" he inquired, trying to keep his tone light, but it was hard to do so when he feared he knew what Altair was about to ask him..

"Malik..." Altair started, a slight frown finding its way onto his face once more. "This isn't the first time I've caught you...injuring yourself." his tone was soft and slightly worried, unusual for the killer.

The rafiq sighed internally. He knew what Altair meant. Occasionally he did hurt himself, but it was never anything serious and he tried not to let his lover see.

"What of it?" Malik responded, his voice staying airy.

"What of it?" Altair demanded disbelievingly. He threw his hands up in the air and spun in a slow half circle before turning back to the other man, his expression somewhat agonized. "You're _hurting _yourself, Malik. _Why?_"

Malik gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

"I don't know..."

"Bullshit." Altair snapped, his golden eyes narrowing.

In all truth, Malik _did _know, but didn't want to concern Altair. It had been a subject that troubled even himself for months now, and he didn't wish to bring his loved one into it. But then again...maybe it would help to talk about it.

"Okay." Malik sighed in defeat. He walked around the counter and caught Altair's hand on the way to their room.

Once the two were in the shelter of their private sanctuary, Malik released Altair from his grip and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. Altair watched carefully, taking up a standing position across from the brown eyed man.

"It started several months ago, after Kadar died. I lost my brother, my best friend, my arm, my position... I was depressed." Malik admitted in a neutral tone. "I had lost everything in life I cared about. I thought about killing myself. I thought maybe if I was dead it wouldn't hurt so much anymore." Malik took a deep breath and looked Altair in the eye. "Sometimes I still think..." The rafiq trailed off, stopping himself when he saw the pain in Altair's eyes. The guilt. Suddenly Malik wished he hadn't said anything at all. It wasn't his intent to make Altair feel bad for his actions in the past.

Slowly, Altair came forward and knelt before the Dai.

"Malik..." words died in his throat.

Altair abruptly lurched forward and embraced Malik, an action Malik never would have experienced, or even thought possible from the man before the two became a couple.

"I'm sorry." Altair murmured, holding his lover tightly.

Malik hugged back, burying his face in the crook of Altair's neck and the white fabric collected there. For a long time the two just sat there in each other's arms.

"Please don't hurt yourself anymore." the assassin begged.

"I won't." Malik swore, holding the man he loved so dearly closer. "I promise you, I won't."


End file.
